Poptarts and True Love
by cliffieluv
Summary: Post-The Getaway. Last Chapter. S/V
1. Michael

Chapter 3  
  
Francie's Restaurant, Bar  
  
"Hello, Vaughn," Sydney repeated as he turned around to face her, this time lowering her voice an octave.  
  
"Hi," He began, a cough in his throat, "hi, we're not supposed to meet like this, publicly, in public."  
  
"Hello, Sydney," Eric said, "Hello, hello, Sydney. Mike, look its Sydney," the words fell off his intoxicated lips.  
  
"Who are they?" Francie asked Sydney with an amused look, before mouthing to her, "Mike, as in Michael?"  
  
"Francie, this is Michael and Eric, we all work together at the bank," she said, the first names tasting so weird on Sydney's tongue. She looked away from Francie and Weiss, back to Vaughn. "What are you doing here, besides the obvious," she asked, eyeing the empty bottles and mugs in front of them.  
  
"We're getting very, very drunk. What does it look like you to you Age-." Sydney clamped her hand over Weiss's mouth. "Be quiet," she warned. "I'm going to call you two a cab."  
  
"We don't want to leave. I," Weiss grinned, "want more beer, and Vaughn, well he wants you."  
  
"Shut up," Vaughn said.  
  
"Just tell her Mike," Weiss responded, picking up another beer, "you heard what she said to," he looked at Francie, "to you."  
  
"Stop talking, Eric." Vaughn said, this time his voice was almost to the level of shouting. "I swear, if you don't stop talking I'll," Vaughn was trying to get up off the stool, but Sydney put a hand on his shoulder. He stopped moving. She spoke to Francie, "Call Eric a cab, please. I'll escort Michael here, home." She said as professionally as she could, knowing full well this could get dangerous if the wrong people had been watching.  
  
Sydney gave her roommate a sympathetic glance, "He's," referring to Weiss and playing off of Francie's unappreciative glare, "a sweetheart, really." Sydney grabbed Vaughn's arm and directed him back through the restaurant. "I'll be home late," she said over her shoulder.  
  
Francie's Restaurant, Storage Room  
  
"What are we doing in here?" Vaughn asked Sydney, finding himself seated on top of a crate in a tiny room. The door was open to provide air circulation, but otherwise they were completely alone.  
  
"Do you really want to have this talk in front of an incredibly drunk Weiss and my best friend?" Sydney asked.  
  
"Will's here?" Vaughn responded, with enough jealousy creeping into his voice for Sydney to notice.  
  
"Francie, remember, not Will," Sydney sighed, "Vaughn, I've never seen you like this."  
  
"You weren't supposed to see me like this."  
  
"I'm going to kick myself for having this conversation with you," she paused, "so intoxicated," she continued, "but I have to know."  
  
"Know what Syd?"  
  
"What would have happened if Kane's men hadn't stopped us," she asked, the next phrase spoken more quietly, "if we had gone up to the hotel room in France?"  
  
"I would have kissed you," Vaughn said, leaning off the crate a little closer to her, "over and over," he smiled, "and never let you go."  
  
"Oh," Sydney closed her eyes, "God." She reopened them to find Vaughn almost slumped completely over. She lifted him off the crate, draping his arm carefully around her shoulders. "Time to get you home," she looked at his sleeping face, "Michael." 


	2. Default Chapter

This is my first Alias fan fiction. I only wish I owned Sydney and Vaughn because of course they do not belong to me. They belong to J.J. Abrams, lucky bastard. Of course, this is dedicated to Carli.  
  
  
  
Sydney's Apartment  
  
"You know what Sydney," Will spoke loudly over the running kitchen sink, "I feel a little guilty."  
  
"I told you not to eat that entire pizza when there are starving children in Southeast Asia."  
  
"No, smart ass."  
  
Sydney picked up her wine goblet, squeezed a tiny drop of Palmolive into it, letting the soapsuds wash over the sweet scented glassware. After all the soap dissipated, she began patting the goblet with her checkered dishrag. She smiled her patented half smile at Will, who had finished washing his half of the dishes, and was now watching her intently.  
  
"Not a humanitarian are you, Tippin?" she joked, "C'mon, spill."  
  
"Spill? I," he searched her beautiful face, "I forgot what I was talking about."  
  
"You had said you felt a little guilty." Sydney reminded him. She had returned the wine goblet to the cabinet and was heading back to the sink to clean their plates. She picked up the soapy sponge and started scrubbing at the spaghetti and meatball remains.  
  
"Oh, right. I was referring to Vaughn."  
  
The plate slipped from her hands and crashed into the sink. It cracked in half as it fell on top of Sydney's favorite coffee saucer, breaking off its handle.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Oh." She stumbled over her words, "Yeah. It was slippery."  
  
She picked up one of the broken halves, then the other, and tried to fit them back together. It was of no use though the jagged edges wouldn't match up.  
  
"What about Vaughn?" She asked slowly. She didn't want to be talking about Vaughn with Will. She didn't want to be talking about Vaughn at all.  
  
"I was pretty obnoxious to the guy when we first met. He's not so bad, though. He gave me a job after all. I feel a little guilty for acting like a jerk."  
  
"Oh. Um. No, don't worry Will. Vaughn likes you, and besides, he doesn't hold grudges for too long." She turned her attention away from Will, and to the broken items in the sink. She ran her finger around the rim of the coffee cup twice, before throwing it in the open garbage can.  
  
"That was Danny's, you know."  
  
"Syd, you sure you don't want to keep it?"  
  
"No, it's time."  
  
She closed the lid on the garbage can just as her Nokia began to ring. She pressed the tiny button and spoke.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Joey's Pizza?"  
  
"Wrong Number," She exhaled as she turned off the phone. A smile involuntarily crossed her face. Will noticed.  
  
"Tell Vaughn I say hi."  
  
"It's not Vaughn," she said not even believing herself, "I need to get more pop tarts."  
  
"Right. Tell Vaughn I say hi."  
  
"At the store. It's my favorite breakfast item."  
  
"Goodbye Sydney."  
  
  
  
Warehouse  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey," Vaughn said, motioning with his hand for her to take a seat on the crate next to him. She obliged, sitting down as he suggested. She liked it, being so close to him.  
  
"What's up? Has Devlin assigned a new counter-mission I'm not aware of?"  
  
"No," he said, followed by her sighing, "Oh."  
  
"I needed to talk to you."  
  
"Oh," she repeated, "About what?"  
  
"We're okay, right? I'd hate to think we weren't okay, because we work together, and we're friends, and if my behavior in any way affects you negatively I," he twists around 90 degrees to look at Sydney, "could never forgive myself."  
  
"You worry too much," Sydney said with a smile. She picked up his hand, and placed it in his own. "Don't worry." She didn't even realize she had his hand in hers until she felt him pull away. He stood up.  
  
"I'm glad we," he said with a confused look, "got that settled. I'll call you tomorrow." He walked out of the warehouse, after giving her one more smile. Outside the building, he took his cell out of his pocket, and dialed a number.  
  
"Eric, man. You up for a drink?" 


	3. Another Drink, Bartender

Chapter 2  
  
Francie's Restaurant  
  
"So," Eric said, gulping down a swig of his beer, "what happened with Sydney this time."  
  
"Why do you automatically think that any time I want to go out drinking, it has something to do with Sydney?" Vaughn asked.  
  
"Because it usually does."  
  
"Shut up," Vaughn said, downing a shot of whiskey, before continuing, "I left her sitting in the warehouse."  
  
"You had her alone in the warehouse," Eric made his voice sound shocked, "and you didn't throw her down and make wild passionate love to her! What a surprise, man. I thought maybe something of actual interest happened."  
  
"She held my hand," Vaughn said softly.  
  
"What are you 12? I know I've called this thing between you and Sydney 'puppy love' but I wasn't being serious. You're all freaked because she touched your hand?" Eric laughed as he raised his hand, signaling the order of yet another beer from the bartender.  
  
"Shut up, it wasn't like that."  
  
"Then what was it like Mike? Like, Mike, that rhymes."  
  
"Okay, you've had too much to drink."  
  
"Nobody," Eric said with a smile followed and a swig, "can have too much to drink. Now continue."  
  
"In France," Vaughn began, "I can't even describe what happened in France. One minute we were about to head up to a hotel room and the next we're done fighting Kane's men and she's acting like I have the plague. I messed things up by asking her to dinner, so I've been trying to make it right again. I fudged the report to Devlin, and since then Sydney and I have been acting like nothing happened. But tonight she innocently touches my hand to provide comfort and I freak out," he pauses for a moment, "I think she needs to be reassigned Eric."  
  
"Mike, we've talked about this."  
  
"I know and time after time we've shot down the idea. Maybe the fact that we have to keep having the same conversation is telling us something I wasn't ready to admit before. She needs to be reassigned before I get her killed."  
  
"You are so depressing when you're drunk," Eric wise-cracked, "but you might be right. I should be Sydney's handler. I wouldn't mind all the late night warehouse meetings. Does she wear the wigs when you meet? I'd want her to wear the wigs."  
  
"Could you stop joking for one minute? I'm being serious Eric."  
  
"So am I, Mike. She made it pretty clear that nothing like what happened in France is ever going to happen again. So suck up your male pride, take a cold shower, and the next time you see "Agent Bristow" treat her like you would any other CIA officer."  
  
"Yeah. I guess."  
  
"Dude, you really got it bad."  
  
"You're telling me man. You're telling me."  
  
  
  
  
  
Francie's Restaurant, Kitchen  
  
"You know I can't afford to pay you for helping me," Francie said to Sydney who was busy folding napkins, "even though I appreciate it." Sydney made no response. She picked up another napkin and began folding.  
  
"Sydney?" Francie questioned, "did something happen?"  
  
"What? Oh, sorry Francie, I guess I'm a little tired or something."  
  
"I don't know why you think you can lie to me and get away with it? I know you Syd. It's that guy, isn't it? The one from work you're hung up on."  
  
"No," Sydney said, following Francie out of the kitchen and into the dinning room, carrying the napkins she just folded. She began replacing the napkins at the tables while Francie laid down the silverware. "I told you that was over."  
  
"So why do you look like your puppy just got run over by a truck?"  
  
"Francie."  
  
"You do, honey." She said, as the two moved closer to the bar. "You still like the guy from work, what's so wrong with that?"  
  
"Everything."  
  
  
  
Francie's Restaurant, Bar  
  
"So why do you look like your puppy just got run over by a truck?"  
  
"Francie."  
  
Vaughn froze. He nudged Eric. Eric looked at him confused. "That's Sydney," Vaughn mouthed.  
  
"You do, honey."  
  
"You still like the guy from work, what's so wrong with that?"  
  
Eric stifled an intoxicated laugh. He could answer the woman's question in 10 words or less. He was about to, actually, when Vaughn put his finger up to his lips, and willed Eric to stay silent.  
  
"Everything."  
  
Vaughn turned around on the bar stool to see Sydney with her back to him, talking with another woman, Francie he presumed. He quickly turned back around. Of all the bars Eric could have chosen, he had picked the one owned by Sydney's best friend.  
  
"You're so dramatic Sydney. It's not like one date with the guy would kill you."  
  
Eric snorted. Vaughn slapped him on the shoulder. Sydney didn't seem to notice, even though by now the girls had moved almost directly behind where Vaughn and Eric were seated. He was so close he could smell her perfume. He willed himself not to turn around again.  
  
"I know Francie," Sydney hid a smile, "He left so fast tonight, like he couldn't wait to get away from me. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if he stayed around, for an hour or two, or all night."  
  
"Maybe this is a good thing," Francie said with a smile, "You'd have to buy enough pop tarts for two. I know how you hate to share, and I'm not sure a lowly banker will be able to afford that. Oh, and you ate the last one this morning, just to let you know."  
  
"Will and I were just talking about that," Sydney said laughing, "It was right before Michael called. That's weird."  
  
At the bar, Eric nudged Vaughn, who was holding his breath as he eavesdropped on Sydney and Francie's conversation. "She called you Michael," Eric tried to whisper but because he was so intoxicated, the words came out louder than he expected. "You're girlfriend eats pop tarts, Mike. She probably wears footy pajama's too." He "whispered" and laughed. "Bartender, one more for me and my friend Mike!" He called out, loudly.  
  
Sydney froze. She knew that voice. Weiss. She turned around slowly to face the bar. She took in the sight of two men sitting there, obviously intoxicated and obviously listening intently to her conversation. She had been two feet from him the entire time. He had heard everything she just said to Francie.  
  
"Francie," She said loudly, "I feel like another Cosmo. Let's go over to the bar." She watched Vaughn tense up. She sauntered up behind him, and tapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"Hello, Vaughn." 


	4. And The Plot Thickens

Chapter 4  
  
Vaughn's House  
  
"You need to help me Vaughn," Sydney huffed as she half-carried a sleepy Vaughn up the front steps, "Where is your extra key?"  
  
He pointed to a potted plant on the stoop. "Not very stealthy for a CIA officer," she mumbled under her breath. She reached out for it but was having a hard time lifting up the plant and holding Vaughn at the same time.  
  
"Vaughn," she groaned, "Sit here for a moment," she said, allowing him to fall gently to the ground. She proceeded to open the door as quickly as she could. Her being there with him wasn't exactly safe.  
  
"C'mon," she lifted him up again, helping him walk. They were now inside. Sydney took a moment to look around. The décor could only be named, distinctly Vaughn: wood furniture, straight lines, and earth tones. "Where's your bedroom?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a smile. He managed to point to the first door on the right.  
  
"You don't know," Vaughn mumbled, "how many times I've thought of those words," he paused, "and your mouth in the same sentence." He wasn't technically making any sense, but Sydney wasn't daft. She knew exactly where he was going with this.  
  
"You don't know," She followed his train of thought, "how many times I've thought about," she paused and stepped over the threshold into the room, eyeing the large bed in the center, "being in your bedroom."  
  
Sydney pulled back the covers and helped him lay down on the bed. She visibly shook the overwhelming urge to join him out of her head. She unlaced his right shoe, then his left, throwing them to the floor. Sitting down next to him, she slowly untied the knot in his tie, carefully removing it from around his neck. "You'll be more comfortable now," was the only thing she could think of to say. She chuckled though. Only Vaughn would wear his suit and tie out drinking. She willed her fingers to unbutton his white dress shirt, and took it off too. Only his white wife beater remained.  
  
Vaughn was sleeping peacefully by now. Sydney sat in the rocking chair across from the bed, watching him. She knew, in all reality, it would probably be her only opportunity to quietly observe him like this. "You are more gorgeous than I ever thought," she sighed, not able to take her eyes off him. In a few moments she'd have to leave and prepare herself for the morning where she'll have to pretend that none of this happened. But, she still had a few moments. She leaned back and rocked.  
  
CIA Headquarters, Conference Room  
  
"How you feeling today Weiss," Sydney said, sneaking up behind Weiss and speaking loudly into his ear, causing the man to wince and dramatically grab his head.  
  
"Oh, I'll remember that," Eric grumbled, "You wait. You think SD-6 is a threat," he points to himself, "I'm just as vindictive, lethal and powerful as Arvin Sloane. Only, I'm much cuter." He smiled. She laughed loudly, causing him to wince again and re-grab his head in pain.  
  
"Oh, I'll remember that," She repeated his words, still laughing as Vaughn walked in.  
  
"What's so funny?" He asked her.  
  
"Nothing," she said almost shyly, "Are we almost ready to start the meeting?"  
  
"Whenever Kendall gets here," he replied. He looked her over for a moment, "Um, I think I need to thank you for," he searched for the right words "helping me last night," he said finished in a low voice.  
  
"Don't worry about it, Michael," she smiled before turning her attention to Kendall, who had just walked in the door.  
  
"Please sit down," Kendall began the meeting, "Unfortunately, I don't have any good news to share. On the eve of Arvin Sloane all but disappearing from SD-6, it seems that Mr. Sark has followed in his footprints."  
  
Sydney shot up in her seat, "What? Sark is missing?"  
  
"We aren't going to jump to conclusions, just yet Agent Bristow."  
  
"I'm not jumping, Sir. Sark is a very smart man. He's not out for a smoke and got lost. He's planning something. I knew it from the minute he walked into SD-6."  
  
"We will uncover what Mr. Sark is hiding. But for now, we just need to find out where he and Mr. Sloane are located. Jack," Jack looked up from the file in front of him, "do you think Irina Derevko could know anything about what is happening?"  
  
"I highly doubt it, Sir, but I'll have a talk with her later," Jack responded. Sydney raised an eyebrow in surprise.  
  
"You highly doubt it? You have never NOT doubted anything where mom is concerned," she whispered to her father, "what's going on?" she asked. He shrugged, "I don't exactly trust her Sydney, but lately I've, I've grown to, respect her." Sydney smiled. "Don't do that," Jack said. "My Mommy and Daddy are getting back together," her smiled erupted even wider. "Sydney, stop it," Jack said loudly, interrupting Kendall.  
  
"Agents Bristow, is there a problem?" Sydney stifled a laugh and Vaughn gave her an amused look.  
  
"Sorry, Sir," Sydney replied as her father said, "No, Sir."  
  
"Good. Then Jack, I hope to hear more from you on this subject later. Until then, this meeting is dismissed. Another debriefing is scheduled for tomorrow, when I hope to have more information."  
  
"What was that about?" Vaughn asked Sydney, as Jack walked out of the room.  
  
"Just some father-daughter stuff," she replied.  
  
"Oh," he started, "Okay, I guess I'll," he wanted so badly to say see you later, "I'll call you if anything comes up."  
  
Sydney watched him walk away. "Too bad you can't just call me anyway," she thought. She shook her head. "No, you are going to find Sark and Sloane and forget about Vaughn," she instructed herself. "But first, I'm going to find out what's up with Mom and Dad." 


	5. Gone

Chapter 5  
  
  
  
CIA Headquarters, Jack's Office  
  
"Sydney," Jack addressed his daughter as she walked into his office, "I know why you are here. I would appreciate you ending this inquisition before it can officially begin."  
  
"No, "Sydney, mind your own business?"" Sydney crossed over closer to the desk and sat down on the edge. "No, "Sydney, go bother someone else?"  
  
"I'm not in the mood for this, Sydney," he said tiredly, rubbing his brow.  
  
"You're stubborn, I know this. It's encoded in the Bristow DNA," she smiled, "but you know I exhibit the same traits, and since I'm too old to be grounded, just tell me."  
  
"We will discuss this later. I have a lot of work to do," he was shuffling around papers on his desk, not looking at her.  
  
"Dad," she put a hand over the papers making him look up, "I'll leave you alone," she wasn't going to badger him to appease her curiosity, "but just for the record I like her too."  
  
"I do not," he said as an afterthought as she walked out the door. He opened his desk drawer and took out the manila folder that sat on top, and stared at the name on the tab. Irina Derevko. He smiled, just a little, and only for a second. "I know better than that."  
  
  
  
Vaughn's House  
  
"Eric Weiss, party animal at your service," Vaughn laughed at the way his best friend answered the phone.  
  
"That's not exactly the most professional way to answer the company phone," he laughed.  
  
"Who calls me besides you?" he paused, "Okay, pretend I didn't just admit that."  
  
"Will do."  
  
"Thanks," there was an awkward silence when neither man spoke for a few seconds, "Vaughn, this is where you tell me why you're calling."  
  
"Yeah, right. Sorry, I got distracted."  
  
"What, did Sydney walk by?"  
  
"No," he coughed, "but that's funny. I really do appreciate all the Sydney jokes."  
  
"You give the comedian enough subject matter and he will joke."  
  
"Try to stop."  
  
"That's like asking a clown to stop smiling, or the sun to stop shining, or McDonalds to stop making burgers out of Grade D meat."  
  
"Okay, I'm hanging up."  
  
"Vaughn, man, what the hell. You called me, remember? I still don't know why by the way."  
  
"I'm sorry Eric. I'm just tense. I came home early from the office to think, and Alice was here."  
  
"Oh. Fun surprise."  
  
"She was sitting on the couch holding Sydney's makeup thing."  
  
"Double fun surprise. Wait, what?"  
  
"It must have fallen out of Sydney's bag last night. Alice recognized it wasn't her own. The first thing she asked me as I walked in the door was, "Vaughn, what kind of woman wears green eye shadow?" So, I told her."  
  
"What exactly did you tell her?"  
  
"I gave her the abridged version. She was really hurt," he spoke softly, "I didn't mean to hurt anyone."  
  
"You know what they say about love."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"That it hurts."  
  
"That was profound."  
  
"I thought so. Listen Vaughn, why are you still on the phone with me. Call Sydney, have her come pick up her makeup thing and then tell her about Alice."  
  
"I can't do that. Don't you remember what happened in France?"  
  
"I know. But Vaughn, you know what else they say about love?"  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"It can feel pretty damn good."  
  
"I know," he sighed, "I'll think about it."  
  
"No, just do it."  
  
"You sound like a Nike commercial."  
  
"I like television. Sue me."  
  
"Do you ever wonder why we're friends?"  
  
"Because every straight laced guy must have a wacky side-kick?"  
  
"That sounds pretty accurate," Vaughn laughed, "Anyway, I'll call you later. Thanks Eric."  
  
"No problem, dude."  
  
Vaughn hung up the phone. Weiss couldn't be right, or was he? What the hell, he would do it. He called the familiar number. The phone rang and rang and rang. On the fourth ring, he heard her voice.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Joey's Pizza?"  
  
"Tricked you! I don't have my phone with me, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can," Vaughn pressed end immediately. In the entire time he has known Sydney, she has never been without her phone in the middle of a workday. He dialed her home phone.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Um, Will?" Vaughn asked tentatively. It wasn't the time for formalities; he needed to know if Sydney was all right. "It's Vaughn."  
  
"Oh, good," it sounded as if Will sighed in relief, "I was just trying to call you but I got a busy signal."  
  
"What's wrong, Will?"  
  
"The place is a wreck. Two tables are overturned, the door was kicked in, and Sydney's cell phone is lying on the floor."  
  
"Will, get out of there. Lie low for the night. I will contact you in the morning," Will was about to plead with him but Vaughn hung up before he had the chance. He immediately dialed the number for Jack Bristow's office  
  
"Jack? It's Michael Vaughn. Sydney's gone." 


	6. The One Ring

Chapter 6  
  
  
  
CIA Headquarters, Irina's cell  
  
"Jack?" Irina dropped the book she had been reading all morning into her lap. The sullen look on Jack's face as the guard allowed him entrance into her cell immediately worried her. It was Jack's patented look of parental concern and mistrust. She remembered as Laura Bristow having been on the receiving end of that look. One night, she had been meeting with her KGB officer when Sydney had to be rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendicitis. She had arrived at the hospital an hour after Jack had originally called to inform her of the trouble, and when she finally did show up in the waiting room, he had given her that exact look. "What's the matter?"  
  
"There was a struggle at our daughter's home earlier this afternoon," Jack was trying his best to keep his composure, "and now she is missing."  
  
"What?" Irina asked, standing up quickly. The guards stood at attention, but Jack waved them back.  
  
"It's alright," He said to them. He turned his attention back to Irina. "I want your gut reaction to who might have taken her: Sloane, Sark or other."  
  
"You said there was a struggle," she deadpanned, "how bad was it?"  
  
"A broken door and a few overturned tables, why?" he asked.  
  
"It was Sark."  
  
"I presume from that statement this is not just your gut speaking?"  
  
"He has this thing about kicking in doors. I told him it was stupid and unnecessary to have a trademark." Jack gave her a curious look. "Besides, if it had been Sloane, Sydney wouldn't have put up a fight. He is still her boss, after all."  
  
"Yes, that makes sense, it couldn't have been Arvin. But what would Sark need with Sydney?"  
  
"I don't know," she replied. In an instant her eyes widened. "Oh, no," she breathed.  
  
  
  
Barcelona, Underground Laboratory  
  
"Sark," Sydney began, "this is so not amusing." She was lying in a hospital bed with both arms and legs in restraints.  
  
"You might want to stop talking, or I'll have to make this all the more painful."  
  
"I knew you were dying to get me into bed, but resorting to handcuffs without the other person's permission, isn't kinky. It's just pathetic."  
  
Sark held up a long syringe and without a word jabbed it in Sydney's right arm. She bit back a scream.  
  
"I told you to stop talking. Now, I'm going to demand you shut the hell up."  
  
"I hate to ask but what did you inject me with?"  
  
"A virus." Sydney's eyes widened. "You know which one I'm referring to, yes?"  
  
"You bastard," she attempted to kick her legs at him even though in reality she could barely move them. "You sick bastard."  
  
"Don't get so wound up," he laughed. "Would I have taken so much trouble bringing you here if I was just going to infect you with some mundane virus? As much as I hate to say it, it's crucial that you remain alive for the moment."  
  
"Wait, you lied? I'm not sick?"  
  
"I injected you with saline. It was good for a laugh. I assume you don't agree."  
  
"I am really, really," she paused for a moment before smiling, "going to enjoy killing you."  
  
"I don't count on that being part of my plan," he chuckled.  
  
"I assume then," she hoped he was dense enough to divulge some information to her, "you are going to tell me what I'm doing here."  
  
"Nope, I won't be doing that either."  
  
"C'mon Sark. Doesn't the evil genius want to share his plans with the person he's torturing? You don't want to gloat, not even a little?"  
  
"All you need to know is this," Sark picked up a different syringe off the medical tray, "at midnight, I will be more powerful than any man in the Alliance, and I will owe it all to you."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"Patience is a virtue, Agent Bristow."  
  
"Sark, I'm tied to a bed. Holding my bladder is a virtue."  
  
"Okay, now," he said as he prepared, first tying a rubber tube around her upper arm and then releasing the air bubbles out of the empty syringe. She winced as he pierced her vein with the needle, drawing blood. "Don't fuss. Unfortunately, this won't hurt too much."  
  
CIA Headquarters, Irina's cell  
  
"He needs her blood for WHAT?" Jack couldn't control his yelling. He was too enraged. "I can not believe you withheld this information. You didn't think the CIA would want to know about this BEFORE your daughter was abducted?"  
  
"I had no way of knowing that Sark would go after Sydney, Jack. I falsely believed the project would be terminated after my disappearance."  
  
"So that's why Sark joined SD-6, to find you. It makes perfect sense now."  
  
"I never meant for any of this to happen," Irina lamented.  
  
"Yes, you did. Everything you do is planned meticulously down to the last minute detail. I should have remembered that. You're conniving and pathological and if you get my daughter killed I will see to it you rot in hell."  
  
"Jack, I swear I have nothing to do with this," she tried again but it was no use, he was already out of the cell and on his way upstairs to debrief Kendall with the new information.  
  
  
  
CIA Headquarters, Jack's Office  
  
"I just spoke to Ms. Derevko. We have a very serious problem on our hands," Jack spoke solemnly to Kendall and Vaughn.  
  
"Three years ago Derevko and Khasinau discovered a Rambaldi artifact that the CIA has no knowledge of. Written on this artifact is another prophecy. They discovered after months of decoding that Rambaldi had hidden a ring in an underground tunnel underneath the Notre Damn cathedral. Derevko retrieved this ring and brought it back to Russia."  
  
"What is so special about this ring? I still don't understand how Sydney is connected in all this," Vaughn asked.  
  
"I was about to tell you Agent Vaughn. The prophecy states that when the ring is stretched and the bonds become broken, it will release an atomic blast unlike anything we have witnessed before."  
  
"So Sark is in control of the most powerful explosive on the planet, that's just wonderful," Kendall retorted.  
  
"You haven't heard the half of it," Jack continued. Kendall covered his face before gesturing for Jack to explain.  
  
"The ring is not just an explosive. The way it deconstructs is revolutionary. Once the bond is initially broken the ring will emit a radioactive signal that speeds up the half-life of all living matter."  
  
"The planet will start to decay," Vaughn hypothesized.  
  
"Yes, very quickly. It is imperative to get this ring away from Sark immediately."  
  
"I don't understand why Sydney became involved?" Vaughn asked.  
  
"Derevko placed the ring in a laboratory underneath one of her safe houses in Barcelona. The ring is locked in a very unique chamber. The only way to open this chamber is with a code. Her DNA."  
  
"I know mother's and daughters share DNA but aren't all DNA codes different?"  
  
"Yes, and that is why Sark came to the states looking for Derevko. What he must have only recently found out is that the code Derevko used was for mitochondrial DNA, which is identical in all maternal relatives."  
  
"Sydney's DNA unlocks the chamber and Sark gets the ring," Vaughn summarized. "Kendall, I'm going to Barcelona tonight."  
  
"Did Derevko give you enough information to successfully send a team into the laboratory?" Jack nodded. "Okay then Agents, suit up. The plane will be ready in fifteen minutes."  
  
"We'll bring her home," Vaughn said to ease his intense worry. "We'll bring her home." 


	7. Wake Up

Chapter 7  
  
Barcelona, Underground Laboratory  
  
"Tell me I'm not the only one confused," Vaughn and Jack were standing among thirty dead scientists in the laboratory, and the younger Agent was thoroughly perplexed as well as highly agitated. "This makes no sense. Why would Sark kill his own men?"  
  
"I don't believe he did, Agent Vaughn." The whole picture was starting to click for Jack. He knew who was behind it all. Much to his chagrin, it could not have been Irina Derevko.  
  
"Sark made a pact with the Devil. This," Jack motioned towards the dead scientists, "was the collection of dues."  
  
"I'm not following," Vaughn replied honestly.  
  
"I've spent months trying to figure out what kind of valuable asset Sark had offered Sloane. Their sudden partnership didn't make any sense and Arvin was tight-lipped about the entire affair. I understand now, Sark needed help finding Irina and Sloane was told he'd be given possession of the ring."  
  
"But Sloane realized he was being double crossed, and sent men here to terminate Sark and bring him the ring."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Wouldn't you know if SD-6 were given this mission?"  
  
"I highly doubt it was SD-6's men. Arvin has connections and contacts all over the world. One phone call to any of his pocket organizations would give him enough manpower to take down this entire laboratory." He sighed and looked around. "It seems that is exactly what transpired."  
  
"How can we find Sark? He's not here, we looked thoroughly." Vaughn left the more important question unasked. Where was Sydney?  
  
"He must have escaped and taken Sydney and the ring with him." Jack paused. "Unless, you didn't find," Jack couldn't finish the sentence.  
  
"Sydney's body?" Vaughn exhaled. "God, No."  
  
Jack let out a choked sigh. Vaughn stepped closer to him, but Jack held up his hand. "I'm alright." Vaughn nodded. Neither of them would be all right until they found Sydney.  
  
"My estimate is that these people died within the last hour, two at the very most, which means Sark couldn't have gotten far, especially if Arvin's men are still on his tail. We need to call Irina, if anyone knows where in Barcelona Sark might be headed, it's my wife."  
  
Vaughn's eyes widened in surprise but he let the slip go unnoticed. Jack was on the phone in an instant, which allowed him a moment to collect his thoughts. Sydney. When was he not thinking about Sydney? Her beauty, her safety, her intensity. He took for granted that as her handler he would always be there to help her with every mission. He knew full well Sydney was able to take care of herself, but if he could radio his Freelancer and hear her respond, "Copy, Base Ops," maybe the dread in the pit of his stomach would disappear.  
  
Jack snapped the phone shut. Vaughn questioned him silently, hopeful. Jack motioned for him to follow. "I know where they are. Let's go."  
  
  
  
Port Olímpic, Barcelona, Bar Pastís  
  
Vaughn had to squint to see inside the dark and smoke-filled bar. He followed Jack as they walked through the crowd of regulars. The guard at the door that Irina swore would lead to Sark's hideaway wasn't a problem for the butt of Jack's gun. The second man behind the door was even less of an obstacle.  
  
"I've got a visual," Vaughn whispered, motioning to Sark standing at 10 o'clock.  
  
"Okay, on my command." Both men lifted their guns, holding them ready in front of them. "Go." Vaughn charged at Sark, whom they had to assume was armed, knocking him to the ground. Jack reached into Sark's boot and pulled out the expected automatic. He also reached into the man's pocket and removed his knife.  
  
"Where is Sydney?" Vaughn asked as he handcuffed Sark. The blonde man didn't answer. It was too quiet. "Jack, it's a set-up."  
  
"Vaughn, duck!" Jack yelled, as a bullet whirred over Vaughn's head. Vaughn shot at the space where the bullet had come from. He heard a grunt. One down.  
  
Jack was in arm-to-arm combat with another of Sark's men. He kneed the man in the stomach, then jabbed him with his elbow in the face, before knocking the man out with a final blunt jab to the back of the head. Two down.  
  
If Sark had any other men there, they must have fled, much to Sark's astonishment. "You can't even pay for good bodyguards anymore," he said with a defeated laugh. The handcuffs made it difficult but he managed to sit up to look Jack in the eye. "But I get the last laugh, Bristow."  
  
Vaughn felt his stomach drop. "What did you do to Sydney?" Vaughn gnarled.  
  
"Sleeping beauty is doing just that. Sleeping, for the next eternity or so." Sark responded. His gaze was transfixed on an open door towards the left side of the room. Jack pulled Sark harshly up to his feet, and followed Vaughn, who had run into the other room to find Sydney.  
  
Sydney was lying on a couch, on her back, hands folded over her chest. Vaughn couldn't help but notice that the bastard had been astute in his description. She looked just as Aurora did in the movie, rosy yet pale, and so still. He covered his mouth but a gasp still erupted.  
  
"Wake her up." Vaughn moved closer to her. Sark shook his head. "Do it. NOW." Vaughn demanded.  
  
"I can't. Vaughn, was it? She's dead."  
  
"NO!" Vaughn screamed. "You gave her a serum. Her other vital signs wouldn't appear normal if she were really de-." He couldn't speak that word. He butted his gun against Sark's temple. "Make her breathe right now."  
  
Jack positioned his weapon so that Sark's head was sandwiched between the two guns. "What Agent Vaughn said was not a request. It was an order. Tell me where the antitoxin is."  
  
"Never."  
  
"I had a lovely chat with your girlfriend this morning. Iliana, if I'm not mistaken?" Sark's breathing grew heavy. "CIA found them hiding out in Romania. Your daughter and I played peek-a-boo."  
  
"Did you hurt Alexei?"  
  
"I wouldn't kill YOUR daughter, Sark." Jack yelled out pointedly. "I even promised your child I'd spare her father's life." He cocked the trigger. "That -was- until you killed my daughter you son-of-a-bitch. Exactly how far are we taking this Sark. I think its going down like this, if you don't talk in the next minute I am going to shoot you, first in the places where it only hurts a little, second in the places it will hurt like hell, then lastly I'll let you rot in here until you die from shock. So, if there is a way to save my little girl, you now have," he looked at his watch, "thirty- four seconds to tell me before I shoot this bullet into your pinky toe."  
  
"Behind that picture frame there is a safe," he motioned towards the far wall, "It's in there. 12-12-01."  
  
Vaughn removed the picture frame, revealing the hidden safe. He opened it with ease and removed a slim vile containing an opaque liquid. There was a syringe in the safe as well and Vaughn filled the syringe with the antitoxin and injected it into Sydney's muscle.  
  
He waited as the serum traveled from the muscle to her circulatory system. Once it reached the blood stream, theoretically Sydney should regain consciousness. There was still no movement from the couch. Vaughn looked at Jack, who tightened his grip on Sark.  
  
"She's not waking up," Jack said angrily, to which Sark replied, "It takes a minute Bristow, she will."  
  
Vaughn was kneeling by Sydney, his hand gently laid over hers. He checked his watch, another minute had passed, then another. He stood up abruptly, and crossed the room over to Sark. "He lied. She's still," his voice barely above a whisper, it hurt too much to talk, "she's cold as ice, Jack."  
  
Then he heard a gasp. The sound of lungs fighting for air escaping through soft female lips. "Sydney!" he ran to her side, "Oh God, Sydney."  
  
She was seizing. Her eyes rolled back into her head. Her forehead was hot with fever.  
  
"Base Ops, we need a van ASAP. Agent down," he yelled into his radio. "Agent down." 


	8. Strategize

Chapter 8  
  
CIA Headquarters, Kendall's office  
  
"What is the current status on Agent Bristow?" Kendall asked Vaughn as they sat across from each other in the elder Agents office.  
  
"I wouldn't know," Vaughn answered sharply, "I'm here instead of being at the hospital with her."  
  
"Do I have to remind you, Agent Vaughn, that you have other responsibilities at the CIA other than being Agent Bristow's handler? Her father is there if she wakes up, and since you were supposed to be getting me the preliminary stats on the ring we confiscated in Barcelona an hour ago, I suggest you do your job before I find someone to replace you."  
  
"Yeah, I'll get right on that, Sir." Vaughn said, standing up. "Oh, and Sir. It's when," Vaughn corrected, "When she wakes up. Because "if" anything happens to Sydney, your threats will no longer be idle, you really will need to replace me." With that, he left the room.  
  
  
  
CIA Headquarters, Vaughn's office  
  
  
  
"Why can't you tell me how she's doing?" Vaughn yelled into the phone. "I know its confidential," but I'm CIA he wanted to yell. "Fine, can I speak to a man in your waiting room. His name is Jack Browning. His daughter, Sydney Browning, is the one I'm asking about. She was admitted last night."  
  
Once Sydney had stopped seizing, the CIA backup team covertly transported her to a local hospital under the alias Sydney Browning. In their absence, SD-6 had been issued a replacement director. The new boss had been curious about the Agents Bristow, but Jack fabricated a very believable lie. In his weakened psychological state, Sloane had allowed Sark access to the SD-6 vault, where Sark promptly stole a very important computer chip. Jack and Sydney had been in pursuit of Sark, and had been able to recover the chip, which Jack handed over to the quite impressed new boss. Sark had managed to escape, though, and Sydney was on his tail in Europe. Jack only came home after being notified of Sloane's immediate replacement.  
  
The cover worked, and nobody was asking questions about Sydney, Jack made sure of it. Unfortunately, as of last night Sydney was still in critical care, and Vaughn couldn't find out any more information.  
  
"Please, ask for Jack Browning. He's tall, handsome, I guess. Looks like he's mad all the time." The nurse must have answered "no" again because Vaughn slammed the phone down in frustration.  
  
"No need to break the phone, Mike. Kendall is pissed enough as it is. He'll enjoy adding "destruction of government property" to his list of grievances, trust me."  
  
"I don't care about Kendall." Vaughn motions for Weiss to close the door. "I can't focus on anything Eric. I'm going insane. I can't get through to Jack and he told me it's not safe for Sydney if I go to the hospital. The last time I saw her, she was dying. No, she was dead. Then she started seizing and I had to fight the urge to betray my feelings to Jack, and hold her in my arms. I might never get the chance."  
  
"Above all else, Sydney is a fighter. If I made it back from the great beyond, there is no doubt in my mind she will too."  
  
"But."  
  
"No buts, Mike." Weiss chose his next words carefully. "She's saved your life more than once, man. It was time for you to repay the debt. She'll come back to you."  
  
"I hope you're right. It's just," Vaughn wasn't sure he could put into words what he was thinking, "I can't sleep at night when Sydney is away on missions, but lately, I have day-nightmares about her getting hurt, or captured, or dying. I love her so much, and she has no idea."  
  
"Go profess the "L" word to her, not me. I'll find you an appropriate alias. Jack will never be the wiser."  
  
"I shouldn't."  
  
"Mike, she wants you there when she wakes up. Trust me, I've looked into the eyes of the opposite sex and seen my fair share of repulsion. But Sydney looks at you like you're made of gold, man. Go."  
  
"Alright, okay, I'm going to the hospital." He waited by the door for Weiss. "C'mon, aren't you going to help me?"  
  
"Cool, field trip."  
  
  
  
Hospital  
  
  
  
"We need to strategize. I can memorize room locations, mark the exits, flirt with a few nurses," Weiss said as he and Vaughn entered the emergency room. They quickly sidestepped the waiting room where an angry Jack Bristow was fighting with a doctor.  
  
"I would like to know what is being done to help Sydney because from the looks of it you haven't done anything!" Jack roared as the other waiters looked on. "My daughter is, dying, and I've been told this is THE BEST hospital in the state so I suppose you page your BEST doctors right now and FIX HER!" He said in that vicious manner of his.  
  
"She's not a car," Weiss cracked, as Vaughn said, "She must still be in ICU. It doesn't look good for her Eric."  
  
"What did I say before? She'll be okay. Just go. Go Prince Charming, wake up that sleeping princess with a freakishly long-awaited kiss," Vaughn gave him a surprised look. "Hey, I wasn't going to kiss her."  
  
"Yeah, right." Weiss grinned.  
  
"Eric," Vaughn said with half-contempt, "Just stay here and try not to get in trouble. Keep a look out for Jack, and you know, try not to stalk any nurses."  
  
Vaughn was able to reach ICU with no problems. It was a weekend, and the hospital had only half its staff around, leaving the halls relatively free to roam. Vaughn ducked inside a storage closet, and found spare scrubs to change into. Weiss had created a hospital employee badge for him to wear around his neck. Mask over his face, he looked authentic enough to pass through ICU without any notice. He found Sydney's room easily enough.  
  
She was hooked up to more machines than he could count on one hand. The loud beeping machine in the corner was a ventilator. Sydney still couldn't breathe on her own.  
  
"This can't be the end," Vaughn said to her as he sat down in the chair beside her, "not for you, or us. C'mon, Syd, open your eyes." He wanted to say all the right things to wake her up. He wanted her to have a reason to come back.  
  
"I keep wondering how we got to this point Syd. Do you know you're all I think about. That has to be the #1 over-used phrase of all time, but its true. You smile at me and I can't think coherently for an hour. I pray every night for the end of SD-6 so you and I can sit together and talk or drink a cup of coffee. I'm hitting on you and you can't even hear me," he smiled, "how pathetic am I."  
  
"Pretty pathetic, Agent Vaughn." Vaughn winced as Jack stepped into the room.  
  
"Your first mistake was making Agent Weiss your look-out. The man is unable to do any job with so many good-looking nurses around. I'm actually surprised he could talk at all."  
  
"I'm sorry Jack - Agent Bristow, I shouldn't be here."  
  
"No, you shouldn't. You are here though, you might as well stay, until security removes us of course. I figure we have a good five, ten minutes before anyone realizes we're not hospital staff."  
  
Jack stood by the head of Sydney's bed. He ran a shaky hand over her damp auburn hair. "Sydney had the worst case of chicken pox. She had a 104 fever and had to be hospitalized. It was right after Laura left, and Sydney cried for the entire two days she was in the hospital. She didn't cry about the pain or the itch, she cried for her mother. I stood by her side, just as I'm doing now, and tried to comfort her. I placed rags on her feverish forehead, she was so sweaty, just like now. I thought she was going to dehydrate and waste away. I yelled at every nurse to give her more and more water." He stopped speaking and looked to Vaughn. "Do you think Irina should be permitted to see her? The last time, she wanted her mother so badly."  
  
"She knows you're here Jack. She needs her father, no matter what she might say when she's conscious, or what she said when she was a child."  
  
"I don't know why I'm telling you all this. It's highly unprofessional."  
  
"Sometimes you need to screw protocol," Vaughn said, instantly wondering if he will regret saying it.  
  
"You might be right." Jack left it at that. "The doctor finally gave me some explanation why she's still unconscious. The toxin was in her body for such a long time that it started creating antibodies. The anti-toxin is working overtime to kill the virus, but there is no guarantee it will work. It's wait and see. What a pompous, arrogant jerk." Jack scolded under his breath.  
  
"Vaughn, did you know that Danny called me to ask for Sydney's hand in marriage."  
  
"No," Vaughn swallowed hard. He wasn't sure he liked where this was going. "I gave him a hard time, but he had my approval from the start. I wanted her to have a normal life with him, and I liked that he thought to include me in it, even if Sydney herself didn't want that. Do you understand what I'm saying?"  
  
He didn't, but Vaughn nodded anyway.  
  
"You wait with her. I need to yell at more doctors."  
  
  
  
Sydney's Apartment, Living Room  
  
  
  
"Francie, stop fluffing! I'm alright," Sydney smiled at Francie who was fighting to make her pillow "the most comfortable pillow in the world," as Francie had put it earlier.  
  
"No, you aren't. Do you have any idea how sick you were? Will said the doctors thought you had meningitis."  
  
Sydney winced. Will had lied to her. When had the truth become so relative?  
  
"I know, Francie. But it turned out to be nothing, just some virus I picked up on my last trip. I'm a fighter, remember that."  
  
"Well, I don't care, you're my best friend and if anything happened to you."  
  
"Nothing will." Sydney said, attempting to sit up. Pain overcame her and she fell back against the pillow. "I'm just sore," she said, off of Francie's I-told-you-so-look. "Alright, fluff one more pillow but after that, relax. I don't need a candy striper, I want to talk to you about stuff."  
  
Francie raised an eyebrow and dropped the pillow mid-fluff.  
  
"Oh yea, what stuff?" She inquired, smile on her lips. "Men, stuff?"  
  
Sydney almost smiled at her friend's eagerness to hear gossip. "Um, well, yeah."  
  
"More specifically, extremely adorable Michael from the restaurant stuff?" Francie asked.  
  
Sydney smiled. With all that had been going on with Sark and Sloane, she had almost forgotten about their drunken encounter with Vaughn and Weiss.  
  
"Yeah, him."  
  
"You were definitely right, Syd. Hot cute."  
  
"I told you," she took a deep breath, and continued, "He came to visit me at the hospital. He was there when I opened my eyes."  
  
"I thought you couldn't have visitors," Francie pouted to which Sydney responded, "I wasn't. He, he snuck in to see me."  
  
"That is so sweet!" Francie squealed.  
  
"I know. He and Dad were talking." Sydney made a worried face. "As I was waking up, I heard Dad mention Danny's name."  
  
"You think Mr. Bristow was trying to dissuade Michael from seeing you."  
  
It's not that simple, Sydney wanted to say. "I think my father is the most confusing man on the planet. All I know is, when I opened my eyes, and called for him, he looked like he had just won the lottery. I'd never seen him look like that before."  
  
"Well, you should have seen Will then, Sydney. He had the "my puppy just died" look on his face the entire time you were in the hospital."  
  
"I know. I saw it firsthand this morning when he brought me a fruit basket. He kept telling me how good folic acid is for someone waking up from a coma."  
  
"So what about Michael. Did you talk to him?"  
  
"Yeah, after my father took the hint that we wanted to be alone for a minute. For someone who spent relatively no time with me during my adolescence, his clinginess now is pretty ironic." She smiled, "Anyway, yeah we," Sydney looked down. "We."  
  
Francie's eyes widened. "What, you what?" She grinned.  
  
"No," Sydney smiled. "It's not anything you're thinking. He's just intense. It's always so intense. Francie," she paused.  
  
"What, Syd?"  
  
"I think he's in love with me."  
  
Francie grinned. "Good." Sydney looked at her confused, "Why good?"  
  
"Duh, because you feel the same way, that's why."  
  
"What, no, I, no I don't," Sydney stammered.  
  
"Sydney," Francie said in that don't even try to lie to me tone.  
  
It was hopeless, though. For as long as she worked for SD-6, a relationship with Vaughn was suicide. She wouldn't risk his safety.  
  
"Why are we talking about this? I've told you before," she said, reminding herself more than Francie, "we work together, we can't date. Let's change topics."  
  
"You're making a mistake, Syd," Francie said, slightly dejected. "Think about what you would be giving up."  
  
She remembered leaning over the bathtub, fighting back the urge to scream or throw up or both, as Danny lay there cold, brutally murdered.  
  
"I am." 


	9. Fin

Chapter 9  
Los Angeles, Park  
It was a familiar scenario. Sydney often met Vaughn in a previously discussed public place, pretending they just bumped accidentally into one another, when really it was anything but accidental. Today she sat on one bench, he on the one directly behind her.  
  
"I'm a little confused." she stated, "why couldn't we meet in the warehouse?" she asked.  
  
"It's too nice out. You should enjoy the weather." She smiled. He always did that. He looked out for her. "Since you've been so sick and all," he offered as a meager explanation.  
  
"I appreciate that. Not that I don't enjoy your company, but why exactly am I here?"  
  
Should he make up a professional excuse, or just tell her the truth? He opted for the truth. "Jack told me you are going back to SD-6 today. I wanted to make sure you were feeling ready."  
  
"I'm fine," she said, slightly shocked. "One weeks rest did me plenty. Plus, it's not fair to make my Dad go on any more of my missions. It's time to go back."  
  
"Be careful with that new boss of yours. The CIA can find almost no information about him. I don't trust him. He'll be even more suspicious when fail to bring him Sark."  
  
She knew the rules and the dangers. They controlled her life. They almost got her killed. "I know. I promise I'll be careful."  
  
"Good. Um, Syd?" He forgot about the "no name" policy in public.  
  
"Yeah?" She did too.  
  
"We never really got a chance to talk about - about things." He was vague on purpose, but she knew immediately what he was referring to.  
  
"Vaughn and Weiss's Excellent Adventure? I think we should probably leave that in the past." He couldn't tell if she were joking or being serious.  
  
"Is it really in the past?" He must have turned on the bench to face her because she felt the heat of his breath on her exposed neck. She shivered.  
  
"Turn around. It's not safe." She ordered him.  
  
He traced the outline of her skinny tank top strap, fingers lingering on her soft skin. She snapped around to look at him. What was he doing?  
  
"Vaughn, what are you?" She began to ask, but he had gotten up. She turned back around to find him kneeling in front of her.  
  
"This is so not safe." She whispered. He sat there propped up on one knee, his face inches from hers. He didn't say a word, but he didn't take his eyes off her form.  
  
"Vaughn."  
  
"I'm going to say something, and you are going to listen and not say anything until I'm done. Okay?" He began. "If you had, you know, died, I was going to quit. I wouldn't have done it solely on principle, or to make a statement, but rather because," he paused, "my heart was broken. I really thought you." He couldn't continue.  
  
"I'm alive. I'm here." She tried to soothe him. She was worried about them being so public, but right now, it was hard not to pay sole attention to the man in front of her. She reached out and touched his chin, tilting it up to look at her. "I'm not going anywhere, Vaughn."  
  
He shook his head. "Yes, you will. If I don't say it, you will."  
  
She was confused. "Say what?" She asked.  
  
He sprung up on his feet so they were eye to eye. He smiled as she searched his face in confusion. "I love you." It was hard for him to believe he finally had admitted it, after all this time.  
  
"For someone who works with government security," she smiled, leaning closer to him, "you're really terrible at keeping secrets."  
  
"What?" He grinned. "You knew?"  
  
"I knew it the minute you asked the maitre-d at that restaurant in France to give us the room key."  
  
"You figured that out, huh?" She pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Well, you're really terrible at keeping secrets," she repeated.  
  
He was taking such a chance with their safety, and in the morning he would kick himself for it, but right now all he could think about was not letting another minute go by without having her by his side, or in his arms. He hugged her deeply, relishing the feel of her in his embrace. He leaned back and saw that her eyes were closed. He hesitated for a second before leaning in and making gentle contact with her lips.  
  
"What are we doing? Vaughn,"  
  
"I've had a dream, Syd, every day for the last month. You and me are sitting on a bench like this one and we're so happy. I'm throwing a Frisbee to Donovan and you're rocking our baby girl to sleep. You start singing, you have such a beautiful voice, and I start to sing along, and there is such happiness and peace in the air, finally happiness after everything."  
  
"What about our enemies?" She asks delicately.  
  
"They drive by in a black car. They take it all away from me. Every night."  
  
"No," she smiles, "they won't win any more. It's only a matter of time before SD-6 goes down, with Sloane out of commission. Sark is in custody and the ring is out of dangerous hands. But most importantly," she kisses him slowly then continues, "I love you too."  
  
"What? Did you just?" He smiles broadly. "It's funny, you know. No matter how much I wanted this, I never thought the day would actually come when," he paused. "I always expect that black car to take you away first."  
  
"I don't go anywhere without a fight. You should really know that by now." She grins, before a pensive smile takes over. "But we do need to get out of here. Let's not push our luck any further than necessary."  
  
He nods, and stands up, pulling her to her feet.  
  
"You're so beautiful," he states staring at her, before jogging off into the distance.  
  
"You're not so bad yourself, Agent Vaughn." She smiles, and jogs home.  
  
FIN 


End file.
